


All Your Sad Little Thoughts And Feelings

by Heavenlea6292



Series: Soul War Games [1]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenlea6292/pseuds/Heavenlea6292
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam refused to actually look her in the eye; it was actually a customary thing for him. He usually focused on her mouth when she addressed him- ever since she had possessed him, he felt…naked in her presence. As if she could look inside him, because she had already been there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was strange, standing outside with her as Dean was inside with Cas. Sam couldn’t lie- there would always be something extremely unsettling about being near Meg, no matter what side she was on or what body she’d leapt into. He glanced over at her as he shook his paint can, watching her do the same.

“So, tell me, what were you wondertwins up to while I was gone?” she asked, casually spraying a sigil on the wall. Sam shrugged.

“Stuff happened. I was off the radar.”

He was unsettled by the way she stopped, turning to look at him. It was strange, she looked…strangely human in that moment. Almost hurt.   


“Wait -- so I took how many bullets for you guys, and you didn't even look for me? Like, once?” Meg scoffed, shaking her blood-matted hair, “My hero. What's with all the "trial" and "being damaged" crap?”   
Sam refused to actually look her in the eye; it was actually a customary thing for him. He usually focused on her mouth when she addressed him- ever since she had possessed him, he felt…naked in her presence. As if she could look inside him, because she had already been there.

“Look, no disrespect, but you haven't exactly been the most, uh, trustworthy person in our lives, Meg,” he stated, trying to sound as cold as he could and failing miserably.  She stopped painting completely now, facing him.   
“You're not gonna tell me? Seriously?” she demanded, “ How am I not team Sam?”   
Sam shook his can, still not looking her in the eye. How was she not Team Sam? He couldn’t answer that- out of everyone since the whole demonblood thing, she was the only one who didn’t treat him  differently. He was still Sam Winchester, Pain-in-the-ass to her.   
She scoffed again.   
“Fine. Whatever it is, you okay dying over it?” she demanded, watching Sam shake the can with an intensity he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. He wasn’t sure- was he okay dying over it? After everything? Hadn’t…no, he had to do this.   
“You don't want to say, fine. But remember, I spent time in that walking corpse of yours. I know your sad, little thoughts and feelings,” she said, her voice slightly teasing. He turned to her, his brow furrowed.   
“That's creepy.”

She caught his eyes for the first time, a moment passing as they stared at each other.   
“Here's what I remember,” she began casually, “ Deep down, in parts you never let see the light of day, you want to live a long, normal life away from creepy old things like me.” She gave him a sarcastic smile, making Sam look down.

“I do,” he imitated her scoffing, shrugging, “You know, I spent last year with... someone, and, um... ...now I know that's actually possible.”    
Sam never had experienced such an intense need to slap someone like he did the moment her eyes zeroed in on him, a smirk spreading across her lips.

“Wait -- that's how you spent your last year? With a chick?” she said, her voice hinting towards a giggle, “Lame.”

Sam could feel his blood pressure rising, swallowing the need to just…punch something. He turned to her, putting on the mask he’d used so many times on Dean, the mask of pure irritation.   
“You know, how about we just wait quietly?” he asked, shaking his can again. Meg was obviously not getting the hint, and he sigh softly as she began to press him more.

“What was her name? You don't even trust me with a name? Cut me, do I not bleed, Sam?” she asked, her dramatic side flaring, “So, some chick actually got you off hunting, huh? That's one rare creature. Tell me -- how'd you meet this unicorn?”

Sam lowered his can, turning to face her.   
“No,” he said, “I’m not just gonna pour my story out to you for free.” They were caught in another staring contest, Sam feeling weaker and weaker under her gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, she cracked another smile.   
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your price?” she asked, spraying another sigil. He turned back to the wall, spraying as well.   
“What happened to you?” he asked, “When you were gone?”  She laughed out loud this time, it sounding pained.   
“I got tortured by the King of Pricks,” she said, shrugging, “Not much to tell, Sam.” He walked over, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.   
“Tell me,” he demanded, looking her in the eye and for the first time, not feeling so transparent to her. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, glaring.   
“Use your imagination, big boy,” she hissed, “Have you seen me? There’s a whole lotta this where you can’t see too. It’s Crowley. He’s no artist like Azazel, or Alistair, but he knows how to get the job done. I was trapped for a year with his goonies, trapped in a vessel, unable to escape. I couldn’t tell the difference between the days, I could only count the passage of time by when they’d let me lay in the pool of my own blood to go and search for a crypt that I lied about. Tell me Sam, what was it like for you in the cage?”   
“Don’t,” he hissed.   
“See? It was the same for me, except, guess what? Your gender afforded you safety from some of the worst torture you could ever imagine.” She paused, her voice thick in her throat. He stared at her, licking his lips. He knew what she was saying.   
“Meg…” he said softly, only to be met with a shit eating grin from her.   
“Oh Sammy, don’t get all mushy on me now,” she said, shaking the can, “It’s just like Crowley said- I’m a whore, and whores are only good for one thing.”   
“You’re wrong,” he said quietly, putting a few more touches on one sigil before turning to her, “My gender didn’t afford me anything.”  Meg nodded, biting her lip.   
“Let me ask ya something, Gigantor,” she said, looking up at him, “Out of anyone, you have the most right to stab me and walk away, or at least kick me around and treat me like dog crap. But out of everyone…you’re the only one who hasn’t played the ‘Demons are second class citizens’ card. Why?”   
“What do you mean?”   
“Azazel, Ruby, Me, Lilith, Lucifer…” she began, “All we’ve done is fuck with you with a singular passion unmatched.  But here you are, apologizing to me because I got treated like a pocket pussy for a year.”

Sam shrugged. She was right, demons had turned his entire existence on its head more times than he could count. He sighed softly.   
“Look… you’ve been here,” he said, tapping his temple, “So you should know.”   
She laughed, shaking her head.   
“Ah yes, Actual Jesus Christ Sam Winchester,” she said, “Sam ‘I-am-the-least-of-all-of-you’ Winchester. Unclean since you were a child. You’re right, I do know why. Because you look at me, and you see something saveable, don’t you?  You have to save the unsaveable, because you look in the mirror and all you see is some oversized freak, who will never be anything more than that.”   
“It’s a little scary how right you are about that,” he said softly. Meg touched his arm, cracking a grin.   
“Wanna know a secret?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. Sam laughed, shrugging.   
“Sure Meg,” he replied.   
“I kissed Castiel, and for the first time in my existence, I felt clean,” she said, “And you know what? It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Before that, I never knew how…dark this was. How evil I was. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? But you start to forget what goodness is, after a while. I used to ride my vessels hard to do them the mercy of killing them…so they didn’t have to live with the memory of me doing all that evil inside them. Now? I ride ‘em hard out of habit. Or I did…until that moment.”  Sam looked at her, revolted and yet…sympathetic.   
“And the girl in there?” he asked.   
“She stopped speaking, fighting. It’s almost like she isn’t here anymore,” she replied, “They do that sometimes- go dormant, just…disappear. “  
“Does it make it easier?” he asked. She smiled at him.   
“Of course it doesn’t,” she replied, “But I’m a demon, it’s what we do. I’m not sorry for what I am, or what I do anymore. I was made this way, just like you were made the way you are.”   
“But I don’t wanna be this,” Sam said, spreading his arms. Meg laughed.   
“I wouldn’t either,” she replied, “You wanna know why? Because you are like, the most obnoxiously good person on this earth and the only person tied with you is your brother. You’re not a freak because you’re evil. You’re a freak because you’re freakishly good. And I hate you for that.”   
“You hate me because you think I’m a good person?”   
“No, I hate you because if there was anyone in this world that had every opportunity to be evil and fucking douche, it’s you. But here you are, crucifying yourself for a brother that’s still miffed that you left him and an angel who just a few years ago, was ready to kill you for being an abomination,” she replied, tossing the can on the ground, “I hate you because you’re the only vessel I’ve had in over a thousand years that’s still alive, and I have to look at you and know that we’re not all that different.”   
“We’re very different, Meg,” Sam said coldly.  
“Your purpose is to save the world. Your one, singular purpose. Mine was raising Lucifer- but you know how well that turned out. And now, it’s killing Crowley.”   
“No it isn’t,” Sam snorted, “You’ve had chances.”   
“Oh, Sam, how could you see through me?” she sneered, “No. You’re right, we’re not that much alike. At least I can tell the truth. Isn’t that something, a demon is more honest than you.”  Sam picked up her can, putting it her hand.   
“So, you wanna hear about my…” he paused, smiling, “My unicorn?” She took the can, smiling softly.   
“You bet your sweet ass I do.”

Sam laughed, working on another sigil.   
“Her name was Amelia,” he began, “And she, ah, she showed me what it was like to come back to the real world. What it was like to be a real person.”   
“So, howdja meet? Hunt? Bar? Booty call?” she teased.   
“I, ah, well…after Dean was gone…I just kinda wondered around. Without Bobby or Dean, there was nothing. So I just kinda was a ghost. I was driving at night and this dog ran in front of the car- I hit him. And I, well, I had to take him to a hospital…the thing was still alive. And she was the doctor on duty and she was…literally the biggest bitch I had ever met…but she was right. She told me I need to take care of the dog that he was my responsibility. So I did…”

Meg stood quietly, listening as Sam told her about Amelia, the motel, the house, don coming back, with a relatively blank yet interested look on her face.  He finished, looking at the confused look on her face.   
“Wait -- h-hold on,” she began, “There’s one part I don't understand. You hit a dog and stopped. Why?”   
He stared at her, incredulous.  
“That whole story, and that's your takeaway?” he demanded.  She rolled her eyes.   
“Oh, I heard the rest. You fell in love with a unicorn. It was beautiful, then sad, then sadder. I laughed, I cried, I puked in my mouth a little,” she paused looking pensive, “And honestly, I kind of get it.”   
Sam looked at her with shock again, but for a whole new reason.   
“Really?”  
She opened her mouth to answer before turning slightly, withdrawing her angel blade.   
“We've got company.”   
Sam turned to see two demons charging them with clubs. He heard Meg let out a small laugh before they started trading blows, Sam’s focus on the Demon on his hands and how fee feels so weak. He managed to kill it, tossing it’s body to turn to look for Meg. He caught sight of her, using her whole, small body to stab the other demon clear through, pinning him to the ground. She yanked the blade out of the demon, and before they could say anything to eah other, the air was filled with thunder and lighting. His head whipped around, trying to see where it was coming from, only to come face to face with Crowley. He could almost feel her tensing up, ready to pounce.

“I believe they're playing my song,” Crowley said casually, stepping forward, “Love what you've done with the place. You really think all that was gonna keep me out forever?”

He and Meg glanced at each other, snorting.  
“At least long enough for Dean and Cas to get the tablet and get out.”   
Crowley looked irritable, moving forward again.   
“Castiel. So, that's who's been poking my boys -- and not in a sexy way. Got a bone to pick with you, moose. After what you did to my poor dog,” he said, stepping around the dead demon on the ground. Before Sam could reply, Meg was pushing her way forward, a hostile smirk on her face.   
“You gonna talk us to death or get down to it already?” she demanded. Sam felt a sick twist in his stomach as Crowley turned his eyes to her, looking absolutely delighted.   
“There's my whore. I'm not here for my dearly departed, though. I'm here for the stone with the funny scribbles on it.”   
“That's not gonna happen.”  
“Love it when you get all tough. Touches me right where my bathing suit goes,” Crowley replied, pulling out his angel blade.  Meg turned to him, her slender hand shoving him towards the warehouse.   
“Go. Save your brother... and my unicorn,” she said with a shadow of a smile on her lips.

Sam looked at her for a split second, their eyes meeting as he tried to convey to her that if she got kidnapped again, he would look for her this time, no matter what. She shoved him again, and he opened the warehouse door, running inside with the singular purpose of finding Dean.  Meg had done it again- threw herself to the dogs for him, Dean, and Cas, and for the first time- and he was angry at her for it. She was a fucking demon; she was supposed to be throwing herself at him to kill him, not saving him. He barreled through the warehouse, slamming into the opening where he head Dean yelling Cas’s name. 

“Dean! Dean. Where's Cas?” he demanded. Dean was standing in the middle of the room, looking stunned and shaken.   
“He's gone. Meg?” he asked. Sam thought about her, standing and facing Crowley like it was her final stand.   
“We got to go – now,” he said, turning and running out.

He could hear Dean behind him, running through the place and out the door right behind him, slamming the door shut as they ran for the car and slid in. Dean gunned the engine, swearing under his breath as Sam looked behind at Crowley and Meg.   
“Fuck,” he whispered, looking at her. She looked like he put her through a damn meat grinder.  Their eyes met, and she smiled, muttering something before looking at Crowley and shoving the Angel blade in his arm.  Dean hissed, gunning the gas as Crowley drove the angel blade through her, her body dropping to the ground as Sam yelled wordlessly. They were swerving off down the road as Crowley shrank in the rearview mirror.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was alone in the woods again, the woods inside his head. He’d ditched Dean, but he could hear someone following him. He whipped around, the wind knocked out of him.   
“Meg?” he said. There she was, clean, unhurt, but the same vessel as she was in when Crowley killed her. She smiled, her arms folded over her chest. 

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” she tsked, “Look at you.”   
“You’re dead,” he replied. She laughed, spreading her arms out as she walked forward.   
“Seems like you’re not too far from it yourself, big boy,” she replied, “ I warned you.”   
“I know,” he murmured. She moved forward, her eyes burning.   
“No, Sam,” she said harshly, “I warned you, and you didn’t listen. I’m dead because I offered my ass up for you- and this is what I get? You lying comatose in a hospital? Lame.”  Sam bit his lip, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I had to-“   
“What?” she demanded, “What, Sam? Purify yourself? What kind of crap is that?”   
“You wouldn’t understand!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air, “You’re a demon, you wouldn’t understand.”   
“Oh, what, I’m a demon and I’m dead, so now you can treat me the way your brother did?” she demanded, “I didn’t get my ass shivved so you could go around proving how fucking good and pure you are by killing yourself!”   
“That wasn’t what it was about.”   
“Oh yes it was. It was to prove to God, Dean, your poor dead bastard daddy and yourself that you were able to be saved, that you deserved for all the angels to hear the words “Sam Winchester Is Saved” over their angel radio. But that’s your problem, Sam! You don’t need fucking saved.”  Sam turned away from her, walking through the woods. He felt her hand grab his arm and turn him around, her eyes still burning. 

“You’re gonna walk away from me?” she demanded, “Come on Sam, look me in the eyes and tell me I’m not right. I’ve been in here before, with all your sad little thoughts and feelings, your memories and your dreams. I know you, Sam, and I’m not saying that to freak you out. I’m saying that so you’ll actually listen to yourself instead of that broken record in Daddy’s voice.”   
“Shut up!” he yelled in her face, towering over her. She stared up at him, unflinching.   
“What, are you scared of the truth, Sam?” she demanded, “Are you scared because I know you in ways that Dean, Cas, Bobby, your Dad- even fucking Ruby, didn’t know you? I heard him Sam, the whole time I was in there.”   
“Shut up,” he muttered. 

“That’s an order, boy! That’s not good enough, how could you betray your family like that, you walk out that door, you better never come back!” she yelled at his hunched shoulders, “He was wrong, and you’re wrong.”   
“Why do you care?” he asked, looking at her hopelessly. She sighed, the expression on her face soft, like it was when she looked at Cas. 

“God, you’re one damaged bastard, aren’t you?” she asked, “How am I not Team Sam? You wanna live, live. You wanna die, die. But stop living to slowly destroy yourself. “  
“You didn’t answer the question,” he said quietly.   
“On purpose,” she replied. He moved forward, looking at her curiously.   
“It was Cas, wasn’t it?” he asked, “He changed something in you. You loved him.”   
“Don’t be a moron,” she spat, “Demons don’t love, Sam.”   
“But you did. And…and Ruby did. You loved Cas.” 

She spread her arms wide, a smirk crossing her lips. 

“Ya got me again, big guy,” she replied, “I loved the little treetopper, so what, it has nothing to do with you.”   
“Yeah, it does,” he replied, “You said I was the only vessel you had in the last thousand years that was still alive. You said you had to look at me and know we were alike. You cared about me. You didn’t mean to.”   
“I never cared about you,” she snapped.   
“Yeah, you did. When I was Lucifer’s vessel…I thought it was because you were so dedicated to him…but after he was in the cage, and you came back…you made a deal with me…for my soul.”   
“So?”   
“You didn’t have to,” he laughed, “You could’ve done it on your own. You coulda gotten the information out of Dean, out of me, but you made a deal with me that we’d let you torture and kill Crowley if you got my soul back. Not very loyal to Lucifer.”   
“I had a new purpose. I have no loyalty to former causes.”   
“But you were serious.”   
“So I had a little integrity, sue me,” she replied, “That doesn’t mean I care about you.”   
“Then why did you answer my questions?” he asked, “Amelia wasn’t that interesting.”   
“Maybe she was.”   
“She wasn’t.”   
“How would you know?”   
“Then why did you die for us, huh? Just for Cas, who coulda poofed his ass out of there? It doesn’t make sense. So, is it me, or Dean? Maybe both of us.”   
“So maybe you asshats were my new cause,” she said, “Maybe I knew if I didn’t throw myself out there then, you two could die.  Maybe something changed in me, or maybe I’m just a manipulative bitch who wanted to fuck with your head. None of that matters.”   
“How can you say that it doesn’t matter?” he exploded, “You killed yourself to save me and Dean, you got kidnapped and tortured for a year because you were helping us take down Dick Roman. It was never all about Cas. It was about us too.” 

He could hear Dean approaching, and Meg smiled. 

“Just think about one thing, Gigantor,” she said, “If you get a chance to live again- are you actually gonna do it? Or are more people gonna die for you just so you can punish yourself for something you couldn’t even control?”

With that, she was gone.   



	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t know how long he’d been in the dark, empty void that whatever it was inside him shoved him into. It was a vast, black void; no end in sight and even the few times he’d gotten up and wandered around for what seemed like an eternity, he never met an actual wall or ledge. At some point, he’d simply given up, curling into the smallest ball possible and closing his eyes. He marveled at the fact that the ground wasn’t hard, it was soft like a bed, and he felt comfortable enough to sleep, as if he were in a dark motel room In the middle of the night and his eyes just wouldn’t adjust. He sighed, letting sleep take him.  He dreamt of angels, of someone holding him and whispering, “Angels are watching over you…”

When he started to wake again, he heard soft shuffling; a set of small toes about a foot from his face.  He shot up, rubbing the sleep from his face as he came eye to eye with the new person. 

“Meg?” he asked, gaping. She spread her arms, smiling. She was a welcome sight, especially in the current circumstances.   
“Here I am,” she said, the smile fading as she hugged her knees.  She was in plain white scrubs, as was he- like the scrubs he had worn in the hospital when Lucifer wouldn’t let him sleep. At least they were comfortable.  She looked sad, like she was disappointed in him and the very idea infuriated him. How did she even have a right to be disappointed in him? How did she think she had the right to look at him like that?  
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, sitting up fully. She shrugged.   
“I don’t know.”   
He bit his lip, pulling his own knees to his chest.   
“I warned you,” she whispered, glaring at him, “I warned you, and you didn’t listen. Why don’t you ever listen?”   
Sam snorted, turning away from her.   
“You aren’t the most trustworthy person in my life, Meg,” he snapped.   
“You just had to trust old Dean to save the day, didn’t you?” She hissed, “Even after all the times he’s betrayed you. Like he’s done again.”   
“He didn’t betray me!” Sam yelled, facing her again, “He did what he had to!”  
“Oh, just like he did what he had to when he chose dear old Daddy over you? Or when he chose Cas, or whatever her name was, the one with the kid, or the bloodsucker? Or whatever is inside you now?” she yelled back, “God, you ooze forgiveness, and it’s disgusting.”    
“Dean’s always done what he’s had to do. It wasn’t about me,” Sam muttered, pressing his face against his knees.   
“How was this not about you?” she asked, “Sam, he pimped out your body to something, and now you’re trapped in a tower waiting for your prince to come save you,” she leaned forward, “You trusted good old reliable Dean again. Just like when it was just gonna be a weekend, Sammy. Just like when it was just until you find Dad, Sammy. Just like when it was just until you killed Azazel, just until you stop the big bang, just until you defeat King Dick Chomper, just until you close the gates of Hell.”  She scooted forward, their toes touching, “You remember, I know you do. That hoarse whisper as he stood over you, watching you sleep. ‘Just until you’re better, Sammy.’ Always just until, right?”   
“Shut up,” he hissed.   
“Why?” she challenged him, “Because you don’t wanna face the fact that every time Dean saves you, it’s just as selfish as it is selfless? He left you when he went to hell, alone. He left you to fall into Ruby’s lies, he left you alone when Lucifer wanted to ride you like a damn bike, he left you so many times and you always forgive him, but he still hasn’t forgiven you for wanting to be normal! And here we are again, you’re alone and it’s his fault! Same old song and dance, Sammy, just a different prom.”   
“Why do you care?” Sam yelled, “Why does it even fucking matter to you?”   
“Because, if you’re not going to care, I fucking will!” she yelled right back, “You let everyone unload all these tremendous lies on you and you let them beat you like a sad fucking puppy and you just take it because you think you deserve it, and you’re the most horrifically good person to ever walk this fucking earth.”   


They were caught in an intense staring contest, neither yielding.   


“Why are you here?” he demanded again, only to be met with her rolling her eyes.   
“I don’t know,” she replied, “It’s your head. You must’ve wanted me, babe.” He shook his head rapidly, frowning.   
“But why you?” he asked, “Why not Jess, or Ruby? Why not Amelia?”  She scoffed.   
“Oh please, don’t ask why it’s not Amelia,” she said, rolling her eyes, “We both know that she was a glorified emotional crutch. She was basically Dean with a vagina, right down to the awkward with feelings, choosing others over you, and the military lifestyle and daddy. Ask a real question.” 

He bit his lip, knowing she was right. 

“Fine. Why not Jess, or Ruby?” he asked again.   
She looked him in the eye, the stare unnerving.   
“How well do you even remember Jess, Sam?” she asked, “It’s been so long, hasn’t it? 8 years. Do you remember her voice, the way she smelled? Do you remember how she slept; do you even remember what she was going to college for?” His cheeks flushed red, tears prickling in his eyes as she continued, “Jess is a fairytale now, just like Mommy always was. An old story you’d play in your head in the dark of whatever motel room it was that day, when Dean’s snoring wasn’t enough to drown out the voice inside your head that kept whispering that you’re a fuck up; you don’t deserve to be alive, that you’re a freak. But after a while, the edges get all fuzzy. Voices warp and fade, until they’re gone, and then the colors start to bleed away. Soon, it’s all blurry, and you start putting in things that you don’t know if they’re real or not. Jess didn’t just die in that house. She died inside you. Probably sometime in the cage.”   
“You’re right,” he choked, sniffling, “She’s…she’s so hard to remember.”   
“And why would you ever want Ruby?” she continued, “She lied. She twisted you; she pumped you full of demon blood and turned everything and everyone against you. Her memory died in that cage too. All that stayed was Dean.”   
“But I remember Dean, Bobby, Kevin. Why not them?”   
She shrugged.   
“Dean told you to trust him. The old man told you to die. Jimmy Neutron is just a child,” she replied, “But me, I told you to make your own choice. I never treated you any different- roided out on demon blood, Lucifer’s prom dress, in love with a proxy for your brother- I never stopped looking at you and seeing the same thing.”  
“And what do you see?”   
“Sam fucking Winchester, moron extraordinaire.”

He laughed at her answer, picking at the hem of the scrubs.  She was right. Meg never changed how she treated him. She’d used him, yeah, lied to him, sure…but she’d never actually treated him any different from anyone else she dealt with.  He’d forgiven her sins.  He forgave her when he saw her regret, even if she wouldn’t admit it, deny it. He forgave her when she looked at him and told him she hated him because she felt they were alike, because if that were true, she didn’t need his hatred along with her own.   
“Well, I guess that’s something,” Sam said, looking over at her. She smiled and nodded, shrugging.   
“I guess it is something, don’t know what though,” she replied, “You’re still just a child. That’s what I see when I look at you. A scared, lost, loving, trusting child.” 

“What?” Sam demanded, looking at her, “I’m 30.” 

“And you’re still a child,” she replied, “Your soul is old, so old, and your mind is too, but still…your body, your heart, you’re still just a fucking child. You want to believe so much, in angels and God and fate and happiness. You want to forgive and forget; you have since the day I met you. Little Sammy Winchester, Boy King of Lullabies. Little Sammy Winchester, trapped by Daddy’s and Dean’s expectations. Sammy Winchester, no matter how hard he scrubbed he could never get clean and he never knew why.” 

“Meg...” Sam said warningly, his voice stifled.   
“Sammy Winchester, never really the favorite- and he knew it. The most important but never the most loved.”   
“Stop,” he commanded, only to be ignored as she crawled forward, her face close to his.   
“Sammy Winchester, the boy who bleeds forgiveness and prays to angels that want him dead.  Who will trust even when the same lips that are asking for trust have torn him apart.  I mean, just look at me. I took your father, I hunted you, I chased you and tormented you, I set hellhounds on your brothers and friends, I crawled inside you and killed in your skin, and yet here you are, talking to me. Trusting me.” 

“You changed,” Sam replied, looking her in the eye, “You changed. I forgave you.”   
“You had no right to forgive me!” she screamed in his face, “You had no right!”   
“It’s my forgiveness; I can give it to whoever I want, even if they don’t want it!” Sam yelled back.  

The next moment, he was wrestling around on the ground of the void with her on his chest, smacking his shoulders and chest relentlessly. 

“You oversized child! Stop that!” she screamed, smacking him as he lay there, “Stop forgiving people who don’t deserve it! Stop pitying people who never gave you a second thought!”   
“You done?” he asked, looking up at her blankly.   
“Not even close, sweetheart,” she hissed, “You’re not a monster, you’re not a demon, and you’re not an angel. You’re better than all of that, you’re a human! You’re the one thing all of those other things wish they could be. Deep inside, in parts that they never let see the light of day, they all wish they could be you.”

“Like you?” Sam asked, sitting up and spilling her from his lap, “Did you start wanting to be human again?”   
“This isn’t about me, Sam!” she shouted, glaring up at him, “This is about you understanding that you aren’t the princess in the tower under a curse, waiting for your knight brother to come save you, and that you aren’t the dragon guarding the castle, and you aren’t just a damn crusade or dream or fucking goal! You have the right to choose. You own your body, not Dean, not Lucifer, not whatever has waltzed inside now.  Have some fucking agency!”   
“How am I supposed to do that, Meg?” he demanded, “You wouldn’t understand agency, because you’re the thing that takes agency from people, just like whatever is inside me.”   
“I understand agency better than anyone ever could for that very reason!” she snapped, “And I’m not a THING.”   
“You’re a demon, aren’t you? A soulless, monstrous demon. The thing that people fear most.”   
“Sweetheart, soulless? I am all soul,” she replied, “Did you forget what demons are? We’re just souls, twisted and warped and flayed and tortured until we became this.  You may relegate all the once human things you kill to objects so you can sleep at night, but you won’t do that to me, thanks.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, running his fingers through his hair. She sighed, moving and sitting next to him.   
“No you aren’t,” she replied, “But, contrary to popular belief, it’s not a fucking sin to not be sorry.” 

Sam sighed quietly, looking down at her. 

“How old are you?” he asked, his brow furrowing. She looked up at him with an amused look on her face.   
“Sam, didn’t anyone ever tell you how rude it is to ask a woman her age?” she said, chuckling, it falling away to a subdued tone, “I’m the kind of old that just stops counting.”   
“That’s not an answer.”   
“Well, to give you an idea,” she said, her face scrunching up as she pretended to count on her fingers, “I’m older than every demon in hell right now. I was the only one who knew where the Lucifer crypts were.”   
“So, you were one of the first?” he asked. She shook her head.   
“We’re not like angels, Sammy,” she said, “We don’t have fancy things like firsts and ranks. Not anymore, not since Ted Bundy took over the joint.  Even before that, really, but definitely after he parked his ass on the throne.”   
“Guess that explains a lot,” Sam replied, shrugging.   
“Like what, moose?” she teased. He smirked, snorting.   
“Like how Ruby was working with Lilith and no one even knew,” he said, “Like why Crowley was jonesing so bad to wipe you off the map.”   
“Jonesing?” she repeated, “Man,  you been around Cheech too long.”  Sam laughed, pressing his back against nothing and yet still being propped up.   
“You know, Dean used to have this old cassette tape,” he said, “Uh, The Big Bambu. He used to play it on the cassette deck in the Impala, when we’d sit on the hood of the car and smoke together.”   
“Sam Winchester, I’m shocked,” she replied, grinning, “I never thought you would be a stoner.”   
“Yeah, no one did,” he replied, laughing, “But there was always one skit, you know, this one fucking 4 minute segment that Dean just fucking loved, where this woman just used to yell ‘SHUT UP!’ at all the students.”   
“Sister Mary Elephant,” Meg supplied, giggling.   
“Yeah!” he closed his eyes, “That’s when things were easy. I knew where the punches were coming from. I knew what to expect. It sucked, but at least I knew.”   
“Oh, the simplicity,” she teased, “I feel the same way. I miss how it was in the old days. You came up, you made a few heads spin, levitate some kids, talk some backwards Latin and vomit and go home.”   
“That’s what demons really used to do?”   
“Well, no. Usually we’d walk around in meat suits fucking up everything we could get our hands on. But the low-level demons, yeah, that was their shtick.” Sam laughed.   
“So, you’ve seen the Exorcist?”   
“Hell yeah,” she replied, “Gotta tell you something Sammy, you were surprised when you saw how into the lore some movie writers got, how they were too close to reality? Kinda the same thing with a lot of your demonic possession movies. Except no, we usually don’t give a shit about your bodies. We just want to raise hell. Terror and pain for the sake of terror and pain.”   
“But not you?”   
“Come on Sam, you know me,” she said with a flash of a grin, “I like causes.”   
“Like Lucifer?”   
“Yeah. Lucifer, Killing Crowley…”  
“Cas.”   
“You,” she said, looking at him seriously.   
“You’re admitting it?”   
“Maybe.”   
“No, seriously, Meg,” he asked, “Is that what you’re saying?” 

“Angels are watching over you, Sam Winchester,” she replied, “Just not the kind your Mom expected.  You weren’t exactly my cause. But I looked at you and saw myself, and maybe I thought if I could help you and your idiot brother, maybe you’d have a chance.”   
“I guess I never had a chance, did I?” Sam asked, sighing. He laid down on his side, his head next to Meg’s hip. She reached down, ruffling his hair softly. 

“I don’t know. Maybe none of us ever really have a chance,” she said gently, “Sleep.”   


End file.
